Well done, Draco, well done
by Possum132
Summary: The aftermath of that awful standoff at the top of the Astronomy Tower from the perspectives of Severus Snape, Draco Malfoy and Peter Pettigrew. Sixth in a seven part series and follow up to I taught him! I thought I knew him!
1. Chapter 1: Draco Malfoy

**Well done, Draco, well done**

**Chapter 1: Draco**

_This can be read as a stand-alone fic, but if you read the prequels "Why Snape never eats here", "Malice in his voice", "Threesome at Spinner's End", "Dumbledore was pretty firm with him" and "I taught him! I thought I knew him!" and the sequel "Power the Dark Lord knows not" you will get a better feel for the particular version of the Potterverse in which this story is set._

The _crucio_ hurt so much, the pain had been so intense, so all-consuming, that he no longer knew where he was, white-hot knives were piercing every inch of his skin, his head was surely going to burst with pain, he was screaming louder than he'd ever screamed in his life, begging for it to stop. And it had stopped, the Dark Lord had lowered his wand, and it had stopped, the Dark Lord had looked down at him as he writhed on the ground, looked at him with his red snake eyes, and told him to go with Snape. The _crucio_ hurt so much, but Snape says he was only under for fifteen seconds, Snape says it was only a slap on the wrist!

He takes the glass of firewhisky that Snape gives him and sips it, urgh, cheap stuff, nothing like the mellow liquid his father lets him have half a glass of sometimes after dinner, but Snape said it would help to stop the trembling, and it is. His father! He thinks, Father, I miss you so much … I have to look after Mother now, I have to be the man of the family now … why didn't the Dark Lord break you out of Azkaban? He's the greatest wizard in the world, why didn't he break you out of Azkaban? I wish you were here, Father, to take care of things, because I am in way, way over my head, and I'm _scared_, Father.

He looks around the dingy little sitting room, he can see the titles on the spines of some of the books, Dark Arts stuff, _very_ Dark Arts stuff, Father had some books like these but they weren't kept on the bookshelves in Father's study, they were kept in the secret chamber under the drawing room floor.

Snape is lounging in the old armchair opposite, he's looking at Pettigrew, cringing on the other end of the threadbare couch, he raises one eyebrow, pours another glass of whisky and wordlessly hands it to Pettigrew. What's Pettigrew doing here? He knows who he is – the rat Animagus who betrayed the Potters, who gave the flesh of a servant, flesh willingly given to restore the Dark Lord to a body, and he knows what Aunt Bellatrix thinks of the man, a poor wizard and a coward, and Pettigrew certainly seems to be scared of Snape. He can understand that, he's scared of Snape, too, he's known _Professor_ Snape for as long as he can remember and Snape has been his Head of House for six years but tonight he's seen another Snape, _Death Eater_ Snape, and it's been frightening, Snape killed the Headmaster without blinking, he killed Dumbledore just like that. He thinks, I don't know this Snape at all, I don't know the Snape who swears - it would be _Scourgify_ if Mother heard _me_ using language like that - knocks off firewhisky as if it was butterbeer, and chain-smokes Muggle cigarettes - he knows what _they_ are, Mother calls cigarettes a filthy Muggle habit, he'd tried one once, it nearly made him spew – I don't know _this_ Snape.

He thinks over the events of the evening, the awful stand-off on the top of the Astronomy Tower, and how it ended. Snape had grabbed him, hustled him through the battle, blocked all the curses that came their way, blasted the oak doors of the Entrance Hall open with a spell of terrifying force, fled with him across the lawn, and shouted to him to run when they were attacked near the gates. This is puzzling, Snape had protected him, looked after him – like he did when Potter cursed him in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, and how did Potter know such a Dark spell, anyway? He thinks, I left Snape out in the cold, I didn't tell him what I was doing in the Room of Requirement, I didn't trust him, I believed Bellatrix, I believed that he was out to get all the glory for himself, he doesn't owe me anything - so why did he help me? It can't be the Unbreakable Vow he made to Mother to protect me; that ended when Dumbledore died, when the task the Dark Lord gave me was complete.

He'd Apparated straight to the Manor, he'd been so panicked, he hadn't known what to do, but Snape had guessed where he'd go, had come after him, told he had time to say goodbye to Mother and then they were leaving … said that Aurors would be at the Manor within the hour. Aurors! And he'd thought about Greg and Vincent, he'd thought, they'll be OK, they haven't done anything, they didn't know anything about what he was doing in the Room of Requirement, he hadn't told them anything, they shouldn't be in trouble – should they? And then he'd thought about the werewolf, Grayback, had he bitten anyone? What did he say, "_you know how much I like kids_," and Merlin knows he's crazy, he could have bitten anyone, he could have bitten Pansy or Blaise or Theodore or anyone … but he wasn't transformed, so they should be OK, shouldn't they?

Mother had cried, wept with joy and relief that Dumbledore was dead and her son was alive, she'd flung her arms around Snape and _kissed_ him, but Snape had just said to her, tersely, it's not over yet, and then they'd felt the Dark Lord's summons. He wasn't quite sure what to expect, but Aunt Bellatrix had said he would be honoured above all others if he succeeded. He'd told himself, I _did_ succeed, OK, Snape had to finish Dumbledore off, but he'd been the one to find a way through the wards, to find a way to get Death Eaters into Hogwarts. He'd thought, everything is going to be all right now, _he_ will be pleased, Mother is safe now, I'm safe, and Father will be proud of me when he finds out what I've done … it's over, I've proved myself, the stupid old man was talking complete crap when he said, "_It is my mercy and not yours that matters now_," but when they'd Apparated to the Dark Lord's side, no one seemed to be celebrating.

The circle of Death Eaters around the Dark Lord had radiated tension, they were nervous, very nervous, with an undercurrent of avid anticipation, and he'd felt suddenly out of his depth, he'd felt that something was going on that he didn't really understand. He'd been secretly thankful that Snape had placed a restraining hand on his arm, that it was Snape who had been the first to approach the Dark Lord. Snape had dropped to his knees, bowed his head, crawled to the Dark Lord and kissed his robes, and he'd heard Snape telling the Dark Lord that he'd found Dumbledore alone, disarmed, heard him playing up _his_, Draco's, role, playing down his own … and he'd understood, Snape doesn't know how the Dark Lord is going to react, I was supposed to do it, not Snape, shit, if Snape is worried, I should be worried, too.

The Dark Lord had leaned down, put his hand under Snape's chin, tilted his head up until he could look straight into his eyes, yeah, he's using Legilimency on Snape. He could hear what they said to each other, but it was a weird experience, he was only hearing half of the conversation, the verbal half.

The Dark Lord had laughed, "Dumbledore _begged_? He begged for his life? He _really_ thought you were his man, Severus, the Muggle-loving old fool really thought you were his man through and through … _delicious_, Severus, _delicious_."

"You have returned to me, Severus, truly you have returned to me, and to think that once I believed that you had left me for ever … "

"Potter tried to use your own spells on you, called you a coward? Tsk, tsk, that _hurt_, didn't it, my little half-blood? But you didn't kill him, you have learned the virtue of obedience …"

Snape is a HALF-BLOOD?

Then Snape's voice, "My Lord, Potter is for you alone … you alone must kill the Chosen One."

"So you have always advised me, Severus, but why did you not bring him to me?"

"My Lord, we were still within the Disapparation wards when the Hippogriff attacked, I would have stunned him and brought him to you, but for the Hippogriff."

He remembers the Hippogriff, screaming and screaming, terrifying, if anything it was bigger and more horrible than the foul beast that ripped his arm in third year … the last thing he can remember seeing before he Disapparated is the Hippogriff swooping on Snape.

The Dark Lord is speaking again, "I am pleased with you, Severus, _very_ pleased … I knew that you _could_ do it, I knew that you _would_ do it, if young Malfoy failed. Do not fret about Potter, I shall have him soon enough, I may even let you play with him a little before I kill him."

"My Lord, you are generous, I am grateful, my Lord, I only wish to be near you and to serve you …"

And then it was his turn, his turn to kneel at the Dark Lord's feet, Merlin, what does he mean "_if young Malfoy failed_"? He'd kept his head bowed, terrified that the Dark Lord would use Legilimency on him, would find out that Dumbledore had offered him sanctuary, offered sanctuary to his whole family, and in a weak moment he'd wanted to believe him, wanted to say yes, but the Dark Lord had only one question for him.

"You did not attempt the Killing Curse? You did not even attempt it?" It wasn't really a question, it was a statement, and he hadn't dared to reply.

"You have not been well trained." The Dark Lord had looked directly at his Aunt Bellatrix, Bellatrix had looked furious, and he'd realised, Bellatrix only cares about the Dark Lord, she only cares about _him_, and I've stuffed up, made her look bad, she's _really_ angry with me, she doesn't like Father, either … and she was playing me off against Snape, when she told me not to trust him.

"Snape will be responsible for your further training … and you will do better next time, won't you, young Malfoy?"

He'd stammered agreement, and then the Dark Lord had hit him with the Cruciatus Curse.

He'd lain on the ground, shaking from the after effects of the _crucio_, and he'd realised then that it wasn't over, it was never going to be over, and now he's a wanted criminal, the Aurors will be after him and Snape, sooner or later they'll find out what happened. There were two broomsticks up on the Astronomy Tower, maybe someone saw everything … he remembers the ten thousand galleon reward the Ministry offered for Sirius Black, how much more will they offer for Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy? He's made his bed and now he's going to have to lie in it – and what task will the Dark Lord give him next? And what will happen if he fails? He's had a taste of the Cruciatus Curse already, and it could be worse, the Dark Lord had threatened to kill _him_ if he failed to kill Dumbledore, and he'd known that was no idle threat. He knows what happened to his mother's cousin Regulus, the cousin that his mother and Bellatrix don't like to talk about – he'd been a Death Eater and he'd disappointed the Dark Lord, and he'd been executed.

The Dark Lord had spoken to Snape for a little while in a low voice, and then they'd Apparated away, to a smelly river bank in some Muggle town, and now they're at Snape's house, he can still hardly believe that Snape is a half-blood, Father's best friend, the Head of Slytherin House, is a lowly _half-blood_. But this house is a foul Muggle dump alright, and now Snape is telling him that he is not to use magic in the house. Not use magic? He looks incredulous, and Snape explains.

"Draco, do you know how the Ministry selects Muggle-born students to attend Hogwarts? Do you know how the Ministry detects breaches of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery?"

He shakes his head – what would he know about Muggle-borns? And Father and Mother have never bothered about him using magic on the holidays, provided he only does it at the Manor.

"The Ministry knows the location of the home of _almost_ every adult witch and wizard in Britain. The Ministry can also detect the use of magic by a minor – and if the magic is used in a house which is not known to them as a wizard's house … you understand, Draco, this house is _not_ known to the Ministry – the Ministry investigates. And I do not wish this house to become known to the Ministry, I think _none_ of us wish it to become known to the Ministry. Draco, you will not use magic in this house …" Snape's eyes had flicked to Pettigrew ... "There will be no unnecessary use of magic in this house by _anyone_. It is warded to hide the use of magic, but every use of magic requires the wards to be replenished, and it _irritates_ me to have to replenish the wards."

No magic, no house elf – clearly no house elf – he wonders, who does the cleaning and the cooking in this house? Snape must have guessed his thoughts, because he looked at Pettigrew again, and smirked nastily.

He finishes his whisky and Snape pours him another glass, stares at him appraisingly. He's never had so much hard liquor in his life, the trembling has stopped, and now he feels a bit light-headed, a bit drunk. At least Snape doesn't appear to be trying Legilimency on him … must have got used to the idea that it won't work. Nevertheless, he avoids Snape's eye, and tries to work out what's going on. OK, the Dark Lord isn't pleased with him, but he's being given a second chance, Snape is going to give him some more training. He can guess what that means – serious duelling training, not the piss-weak Defence stuff he was taught at Hogwarts, slicing hexes and bone-breaking curses, stuff like that, and maybe it won't be too bad, Snape isn't holding the lies he'd told him about the necklace and the poisoned mead against him, of course he wouldn't, it's the Slytherin way, isn't it? And Snape has been a friend and a rival of Father's since their school days … He drinks some more of his whisky, it doesn't taste so rough now, and tells himself that maybe things aren't so bad.

Snape is speaking again, asking him what experience he's had with the Unforgiveable Curses, and he thinks, _imperio_ is easy, Father taught me that one … so he tells Snape that he put Rosmerta under the Imperius, and had checked on her as frequently as he could, to renew the curse. Snape looks approving, and he relaxes.

Snape is asking him about the Cruciatus, that makes him feel a bit uneasy, he tells Snape that Bellatrix had got him to try it out on a dog, and he'd eventually managed it, though he thinks, I didn't really want to do it, it was just a bloody dog, but I imagined it was that stinking blood traitor Ronald Weasley … and then I could do it, enough to please Bellatrix, anyway. Snape asks, "A big black dog, I suppose?" He nods, and Snape looks amused, and lights another cigarette. Suddenly, unreasonably, he's angry and he'd like to tell Snape that there is _nothing_ funny about the Cruciatus Curse. He remembers when he tried to _crucio_ Potter in the bathroom, he'd been so frightened that he'd never be able to fix the Vanishing Cabinet, that he'd never succeed, he'd been so frightened of the Dark Lord, that he'd actually been crying – and the Scarhead had to see _that_! And he thinks, now that I know what _crucio_ feels like, I don't think I could do that to anyone, not even Potter ….

Now Snape is asking him about the Killing Curse, and his stomach knots up. He'd tried and tried with the dog, they'd tied it up so it couldn't move and he'd cursed it again and again, he'd managed to hurt it, it had yelped and howled until he felt sick, but he couldn't finish it off. Bellatrix had got really angry, she'd finally killed the animal herself, but he doesn't want to admit failure, so he lies. But Snape is leaning forward, those black eyes are boring into his, and he's speaking in his softest, most dangerous voice, "Don't try to fuck me around, Draco, this is too important," and now he's frightened as well as angry, he remembers how he kept Snape out of his mind the time that Filch sprang him at Christmas, on his way to the Room of Requirement, and he'd pretended to be gatecrashing Slug's party, but now he's wondering if Snape was going easy on him then because of the Vow, so he confesses that he wasn't able to kill the dog. And now he knows what the _further training_ means, he's got to master the _Avada Kedavra._

Snape is telling him about the theoretical basis of the Killing Curse, saying, "The Killing Curse is comparable to the Patronus Charm. The Patronus requires you to concentrate on a single, very happy memory, and conversely, the _Avada Kedavra_ requires you to concentrate on a memory that inspires hate and anger, to _focus_ such a memory. You really _need_ to mean it, you must really _want_ to kill."

He thinks, memories of Potter catching the Snitch or Granger beating me in Potions don't quite cut the mustard, not that I _like_ the Scarhead or the Mudblood, because I _don't_, but why should someone die just because they're good on a broomstick, or smart? And he dare not think of the memory that really angers him, the memory of his branding with the Dark Mark, while his mother watched and trembled, too frightened to openly weep, thoughts like that are traitorous, thoughts like that are dangerous … Snape mustn't see these thoughts. He's feeling a bit odd now, a bit out of it, maybe he's had enough to drink, better not have any more whisky.

Snape is watching him, his face expressionless, lighting another one of those stinking cigarettes, and he thinks, insanely, I suppose Dumbledore wouldn't let him smoke at Hogwarts, bad example to the students … Now Snape is speaking again, "You will have to do better than you have done so far, Draco, a lot better, if you hope to please the Dark Lord. I'm afraid your father has set rather a high standard for you to follow, Lucius is very _accomplished_ in the use of the Killing Curse."

He stares at Snape, and he thinks, Father never said much about what he does for the Dark Lord, he never said much about it before he went to Azkaban, but I suppose he must have tortured people, and not just a bit of fun, like with the Muggles at the Quidditch Cup – those stupid annoying Muggles - he must have killed them, too … but what does Snape mean by "accomplished", what does that mean? The _Avada Kedavra_ kills a person, right, what more is there to it than that? He thinks, maybe I don't want to know what Snape means … but Snape is telling him, anyway.

"In the old days, we used to play a little game with Muggles … Muggle-killing raids can be so _dull_. We'd _imperio_ some Muggles, get them to line up one behind the other, and see how many we could kill with one _Avada Kedavra. _Merlin, your father was good! His personal best was eight Muggles … nearly as good as mine …."

He can't believe what he's heard, he wants to protest – my father doesn't do things like that, sure, he believes in blood purity and that means putting the Muggles and the Mudbloods in their place and restoring the position of the old wizarding families, but he wouldn't do things like that, that's sick, that's just butchery.

Snape is leaning forward again, and he's deadly serious, using that silky, dangerous voice that's more frightening than when he shouts. "Draco, you can't afford to be squeamish about Muggles. There are sixty million Muggles in Britain, we could kill them night and day and it would hardly make a dent in their numbers. We will need to find a couple of Muggles for you to practice the Killing Curse on, because you are of no use to the Dark Lord _whatsoever_ if you cannot even kill Muggles, and I advise you, Draco, I _strongly_ advise you, not to disappoint the Dark Lord _again_."

Snape gives him a moment to digest this, and then he speaks again, "You will have to be able to do a lot better than Muggle killing to be of any real value to the Dark Lord. We will be fighting the Aurors in a few days, and you have a _lot_ to learn if you are have any chance of surviving a duel with an Auror."

Now he feels sick, really sick, he mutters something about too much to drink … and Snape takes him by the arm, hustles him through a doorway in the bookshelves, up some stairs, and into a bathroom, he's struggling not to spew until he can get his head over the toilet bowl. Thank god Snape has closed the door, left him alone, he vomits again and again, splattering his robes, but he doesn't care, he just doesn't care, and the full horror of his situation hits him.

He remembers boasting to Pansy and the others on the train, about the job he was given to do by the Dark Lord, and he thinks, you _idiot_, you _idiot_, Father and Aunt Bellatrix talked a lot about the honour and glory of serving the Dark Lord … but that's _bullshit_, it's just murdering helpless Muggles, and I can't even do that, I couldn't kill Dumbledore, I had the chance and I couldn't do it, it's either murdering Muggles or going up against Aurors, and that's _insane_, Aurors have years of training and I'm not even of age! He thinks, taking the Dark Mark means a lifetime of service or death - and _crucio_ if you make a mistake or even if he's just pissed off about something – and it's probably going to be death … the Dark Lord thought I'd die attempting to kill Dumbledore, and I didn't, but he's still going to kill me anyway.

And then he's crying, he thinks, Father, how could you do this to me? How could you be so stupid as to get mixed up with a psychopathic madman? What could the Dark Lord have offered you that you didn't have already? Money, position, power? The Malfoys have always had those things … and that stuff about blood purity, it's _crap_, it's just an excuse to kill Muggles and make a grab for power, the Dark Lord would use anybody, Snape's his new favourite, and he's a _half-blood_, you didn't believe all that stuff about blood purity, did you Father? I thought you were _smart_, Father, I've always admired you and tried to please you, but I can't do this … I can't do this. Dumbledore tried to help me, but it's too late now, I can't go to the Ministry now, and if I did, the Dark Lord would kill Mother … and Snape, I used to _like_ Snape, I thought he was _cool_, how could he fall for it, he's a half-blood, and you always told me that a half-blood is just one step up from a filthy Mudblood.

And then he thinks, it's _true_, isn't it, what Snape told me, you and your best friend out on a spree, killing Muggles for _entertainment_, and was that all, or were there worse things, things that Snape hasn't told me about? And he remembers the _Bloodlust_ calendar that had circulated in the boys' dormitory until Snape got wind of it and confiscated it - _incendioed_ it, actually – he'd pretended that he'd seen stacks of that kind of stuff, he'd acted cool and sophisticated, but the photographs had been revolting. One of the images flashes into his mind, but now the witch has Hermione Granger's face, and he thinks, _no_, they'd do that to Granger just because she's a Muggle-born, they'd do that to Hermione … not that I've ever had a chance with her, the way Potter and the Weasel hang around her all the time, and then he's vomiting again, even though there's nothing left in his stomach. The last thing he thinks, before he passes out, is _damn you_, Father, _damn you_, I don't care what you think, I don't care if she's a Mudblood and a Gryffindor, I don't care ...


	2. Chapter 2: Severus Snape

**Well done, Draco, well done**

**Chapter 2: Snape**

When Flitwick ran into his office, told him that there were Death Eaters in the castle and the Dark Mark was flying above the Astronomy Tower he'd thought for a moment that the Dark Lord must have come himself, must have broken the wards protecting the castle. He'd thought it was Godrick's Hollow all over again, _I didn't know, I didn't know_, and then he'd realised, _he_ isn't here, the Mark isn't burning, and I would have felt the wards go down … this is Draco's doing.

He'd stunned Flitwick, one less to kill or be killed by - and he liked Flitwick, he didn't want to have to hurt him - and a handy excuse to get rid of Granger and Lovegood, what the hell were they doing, hanging around his office? He'd dashed through the fighting, through the barrier, he knew what it was, the Dark Mark would get him through it, he'd raced up the stairs, burst out onto the ramparts … and he'd looked around, taking in the scene, four Death Eaters, Draco, the Headmaster slumped and white faced - the Headmaster _disarmed_ - and two broomsticks … _two_ broomsticks, was Potter there, hidden under his Invisibility Cloak? For a moment he'd thought, it's only the Carrows, Yaxley and Grayback … four Death Eaters and Draco, the boy doesn't count, I can handle _them_, and I can hold the Astronomy Tower against the ones downstairs until the Ministry can get here.

But Amycus Carrow was saying, "We've got a problem … the boy doesn't seem able … " and Narcissa's words had flashed into his mind, "_should it prove necessary … if it seems Draco will fail …_"He'd known then what his choices were, fulfil the Vow and be released from it, or die, but still he didn't want to do it, he'd looked to the Headmaster for orders, and Dumbledore had said _do it_, had pleaded with him, _do it, or we both die, here, now, and maybe Harry dies too_. Still he'd hesitated, even though he knew he didn't really have a choice, he'd never had a choice, despite Dumbledore's words in the Forbidden Forest, and Dumbledore had pleaded with him again, _do it, and get them away from here, get them away from Harry, get Grayback away from Hogwarts, and do what you can for Draco_. So he'd done it, and it hadn't been so difficult, all he'd needed to do was unleash that part of himself that had been chained for fifteen years, chained since the Dark Lord fell - all he needed to do was to unleash the killer within. In a way, it had been a huge relief, just to give in, to give in to the desire that had been building ever since the Dark Lord rose again. Oh, it hadn't been so difficult after all, what had been difficult was to _stop._ It would have been so easy to keep going, to kill the filthy werewolf, it stank, even though it wasn't transformed, and then the rest of them, maybe even Draco … but he'd kept his head, remembered Dumbledore's plan, remembered the Horcruxes.

He'd shouted to the others, "_It's over, time to go,_" but of course it wasn't over until he'd faced the Dark Lord. He'd been wary, he knew that, Dark Mark or no Dark Mark, if the Dark Lord thought he was getting ideas, if the Dark Lord thought he might forget who is master and who is servant, he was dead, so he'd crawled to the Dark Lord, head bowed submissively, kissed his robes, and then he'd felt the Dark Lord's hand touching his hair, running down the side of his face, the palm under his chin, forcing his head up, and the unnaturally long fingers spreading out across his throat, caressing him, stroking him. He'd known what was coming, and he'd thought, _Headmaster, I am ready, I am prepared_, and he'd looked up into the red slit eyes and opened his mind.

He shown the Dark Lord his memory of Dumbledore begging, but not what he was begging for, the Dark Lord feared death more than anything, he'd draw his own conclusions. He hadn't tried to hide the bloodlust he'd felt after he'd cast the Killing Curse, the desire to keep on killing, or the revulsion and loathing he felt for Greyback, the Dark Lord knew he hated werewolves … it was best to lie as little as possible to the Dark Lord … He'd shown him the duel with Potter - if you could call it a duel, Potter had been _pathetic_, it would have been so _easy_ to kill him - shown the Dark Lord the incandescent rage he felt for Potter, there was no lie in that, he'd wanted to kill Potter when Potter called him a coward, and he couldn't stop himself from hurting Potter a little at the end … but he didn't show the Dark Lord the other reason for the rage. Bloody Potter, Dumbledore had given his life for Potter, to get the Death Eaters away from him, but the idiot boy had to come running after him, had to endanger himself again, he could have been killed … thank Merlin Hagrid's Hippogriff had attacked him, given him an excuse to leave the boy …

The Dark Lord had been satisfied, had allowed him look away, but the strain had been terrific and he'd felt the way he always does when the Dark Lord stops looking into his mind, dirty and used.

He remembers how the Dark Lord had let slip that he was a half-blood, in the same way he had let slip that Lupin was a werewolf, but that doesn't worry him, the others won't dare to say a thing … and he thinks, that was probably mostly to goad Bellatrix. Oh yes, Bellatrix Lestrange will be at his throat in no time, but perhaps he can make it work for him, if he can get her to attack him, preferably when his back is turned, if it looks like she is too unstable to be a useful servant, then he has a chance of killing her without losing the Dark Lord's favour.

He looks across at Draco, the kid is a mess, didn't Bellatrix have the sense to give him a taste of _crucio_ to toughen him up, to prepare him? Everyone gets a dose from time to time, "to encourage the others", firewhisky is the best palliative, chocolate for Dementors, firewhisky for _crucio … _He looks at Pettigrew, stuck with the rat again, blast, what is the Dark Lord playing at? On the other hand, it is useful to have a witness, a spying, sneaking, tale-carrying witness, for the conversation he intends to have with Draco tonight, if is still tonight, it feels more like early morning. He pours a glass of whisky for Wormtail, settles himself back in the old armchair, lights a cigarette, and fixes his eyes on Draco. Now that he's not bound by the Vow, he could rip through Draco's defences as if they were wet tissue paper, but there'll be no need for that, let the firewhisky do its work, Occlumency and alcohol don't mix, not unless you're a master …

He waits until Draco has downed his whisky and then explains the no magic rule to Draco, Spinner's End isn't Unplottable but it's the next best thing – it isn't on his Ministry file or in his personnel records at Hogwarts, his anti-Apparition wards reach as far as the river, the house is heavily warded and an uninvited visitor is likely to have a nasty accident, and we are not talking enchanted dustbins. Typical Malfoy! Draco is wondering who does the cleaning and the cooking? Ah, well, Wormtail does have his uses … he looks at Pettigrew, and smirks nastily.

He looks back at Draco, appraisingly, Merlin, he looks like Lucius at the same age! The same pointed face, pale grey eyes, white-blond hair … he asks Draco what experience he's had with the Unforgiveable Curses, Bellatrix must have taught the boy _something_. He's not surprised to hear that Lucius had taught his son the Imperius Curse, telling people what to do comes naturally to a Malfoy … and Draco has had some experience with the Cruciatus Curse. But not until tonight, he thinks sourly, the really _educational _experience of a dose of it yourself, no, you never really get used to _crucio_, it bloody well _hurts_, especially when it's the Dark Lord dishing it out.

Draco is telling him that Bellatrix provided a dog to practice the Cruciatus Curse on, and he asks, "A big black dog, I suppose?" Draco nods, and he struggles not to laugh out loud, that's rich, Bellatrix really knows how to nurse a grudge … Draco is looking daggers at him and he thinks, at least have the wit not to _say_ anything, Draco, Wormtail is listening, and he'll run to the Dark Lord if he has the faintest whiff of suspicion that your allegiance is only luke warm.

He asks Draco about the Killing Curse, he's pretty sure that Draco has never used it, the way his wand hand was shaking on the ramparts of the Astronomy Tower. Draco has the nerve to lie to him, and that annoys him, he tells Draco, "Don't try to fuck me around, Draco, this is too important," and Draco confesses that he couldn't kill the dog, and he's not really surprised. He thinks, Draco is the spitting image of Lucius, but he's more Narcissa's son than Lucius', bloody hell, Lucius, how were _you_ going to deal with this? How were you going to deal with the fact that your son hasn't got what it takes to be a Death Eater? He's like Potter, he hasn't got the nerve or the ability ...

He tells Draco about the theoretical basis of the Killing Curse, says, "The Killing Curse is comparable to the Patronus Charm. The Patronus requires you to concentrate on a single, very happy memory, and conversely, the _Avada Kedavra_ requires you to concentrate on a memory that inspires hate and anger, to _focus_ such a memory. You really _need_ to mean it, you must really _want_ to kill." And he watches for the memories that Draco could use … Harry Potter catching the Snitch or Hermione Granger coming top of the class in Potions isn't going to do it, you need stronger stuff than that, what about James Potter threatening to take your underpants off, to take your underpants off in front of a crowd, in front of a girl … a girl you like, a girl you'd like to impress, a girl you've just called a filthy Mudblood?

But when he sees a glimpse of the memory that Draco is trying to hide, he feels ineffably sad. He thinks, no one stood over _me_ to take the Dark Mark, I did _that_ to myself, and now that I've made my bed I'm going to have to lie in it. He knows what Dumbledore would want him to do, but he hesitates, he hadn't planned on breaking cover so soon after Dumbledore's death, and he's got no information about the Horcruxes. He thinks, the Dark Lord won't tell me that, not while Bellatrix lives, that information is too secret to be shared with more than one trusted servant …

He knows that it's cruel, but he needs to know before he risks losing everything that Dumbledore has gambled for, he needs to know what Draco is really made of, so he tells him about the unsavory little game they used to play with Muggles, he and Lucius and the others, the game he never dared to confess to Dumbledore, best to gloss over that, and just say "I killed countless Muggles". Draco is looking both shocked and disbelieving, for god's sake can he really be so ignorant of what his father is really like? He thinks, Lucius is my friend and damn good company most of the time, but grow up, kid, and face it, your father is one nasty bastard, he should have married Bellatrix, not Narcissa. Not for the first time, he thinks, am I going to have to kill Lucius one day? Fucking hell, am I going soft, I killed Dumbledore, didn't I, so why would I hesitate to kill Lucius – if he doesn't get me first, of course. Which he might do when he finds out what's going to happen to Draco …

He's got the beginnings of a scheme worked out, a scheme to get Draco out of the picture without anyone suspecting the boy's loyalties … a scheme to keep him safe until the end of the war. He almost barks with laughter, it's brilliant, Draco will be underground until the war is over … literally underground! It will need Moody's co-operation, though, and that means he'll have to deal with Potter, and that thought sobers him immediately. Potter! Shit, he saw everything, he's not going to be very rational … he's not going to be easy to convince. Dumbledore suggested using the pensieve, but how's he going to get Potter to even consider it, and Moody's going to be, as the Muggles put it, _trigger-happy. _The Ministry is bound to authorize the use of the Unforgiveables against him, so at least he won't end up in Azkaban …

Azkaban! The Azkaban plan is still confidential, he can't mention details, but he drops a reference to the Aurors, more to enjoy the look of terror that appears on Wormtail's face than for any other reason, but Draco is really rattled, of course he's shitting himself at the thought of taking on Aurors, that's understandable, he's not even of age.

Draco looks as if he's going to throw up, not surprising after three glasses of Ogdens Old Firewhisky, that stuff's rotgut, but what can you expect on his salary? He gets Draco up to the bathroom, gives him a decent interval to be sick, and when he finds him passed out on the floor – Merlin's beard, what a mess for Wormtail to clean up – he heaves Draco into bed, in the rat's old room.

Then he goes to his own room, wards it, casts a Silencing charm, and throws himself on the bed, he can't even be bothered to get out of his robes, but there's something he needs to do before he can sleep. He'd been braced for a terrific surge of "visceral energy" - as the student text books coyly put it - when Dumbledore died, but there hadn't been much of a blast, and then he had known just to what extent the Headmaster had diminished before he'd died. No, there hadn't been much of a blast but there is still a nagging, lingering tension, it's bothering him badly, and he needs to get rid of it. He's disgusted by his need but he can't deny it, so he slips his hand under his robes and starts stroking himself, trying to keep his mind blank because this is not about frustrated desire, or a wish for pleasure, or even about alleviating boredom, but about physical relief at its most basic, a release of tension so that he can sleep … so why is he looking at that damn photograph again? The photograph taken at their graduation, the photograph showing Slughorn, Lily and himself, Lily is standing between them, smiling and holding the Potions Award, _awarded jointly to Severus Snape and Lily Evans_, she looks amazing, with her hair twisted up in an elegant knot at the back of her head, wearing robes made of a floaty, periwinkle blue material.

Slughorn is looking expansive and self-satisfied, and he's looking faintly embarrassed, but he looks OK, he's finally grown into that damn nose, and for once he has new robes. Lily turns to Slughorn, embraces him, kisses him on the cheek, and then she turns to _him_, reaches up to kiss him, and he's taken by surprise, he turns his head and her lips brush against his for a moment, and it's electrifying, intoxicating. He can still remember what he was thinking at that moment: Lily Evans kissed me, Lily kissed _me_ … Potter's got the marks to get into the Auror Corps, I always knew he would, _bastard_, but a Gringotts curse breaker is as good as an Auror any day and the pay is better, I'm bound to get _that_ job, my DADA and Arithmancy results are outstanding, they're my best subjects – after Potions. I need a job, it's alright for Lucius to get involved in politics, he's stinking rich, that bloke Voldemort he supports sounds alright, he's got the right idea about Muggles and he's a Slytherin, when Voldemort is Minister for Magic the Gryffindors will get a well-deserved kick up the pants …. yes, a career in politics is alright for Lucius, but I need money _now_, god knows where my mother found the galleons for new dress robes … and I'll look Lily up at her Muggle parents' house, she's Potter's girlfriend, she's not his _property_. And he had looked Lily up, and he'd _crucioed_ that bitch sister of hers, well she was asking for it, telling him, "My _freak_ sister isn't here, she's out with her boyfriend," _crucioed_ her and told her she'd get another dose if she ever dared to tell – or to call Lily a freak again.

He thinks, utterly miserable, I've been wanking over this bloody photograph for twenty years, when will it stop? But in his mind she's already opening her mouth to him, she's willing and eager, she's opening her legs to him, she's arching her back beneath him and calling _his_ name, because he knows exactly how and where to touch her to give her pleasure, she's whispering in his ear, _don't stop, don't stop, don't stop_, and he can't stop, he won't stop until he's marked her as _his_ in a way that every male will understand, and he can't stop until he's finished, curled up in his bed, hand and belly sticky with his semen. But after the brief moment of satisfaction comes an awful emptiness, worse than ever before, and he can't lie to himself any longer, he's keening aloud with the pain, the pain of his heart tearing into rags, I was _in love_ with her, I _loved_ her, I _loved_ her, and I loved Dumbledore, too, and I killed both of them.


	3. Chapter 3: Peter Pettigrew

**Well done, Draco, well done**

**Chapter 3: Peter Pettigrew**

He's thinking, it's a terrible shock, Dumbledore is dead, Dumbledore – the only wizard the Dark Lord ever feared - that's closed a door, a door that he hardly even dared to think about opening, lest the Dark Lord read it in his mind: running to Dumbledore for protection, he had valuable information, information about Snape, he's a double-agent, he still belongs to the Dark Lord, Dumbledore _could_ protect him, Dumbledore _would_ protect him – in exchange for that kind of information. And now Dumbledore is dead and his information is valueless, he's made his bed and now he's going to have to lie in it … does the Dark Lord suspect him of disloyalty? Is that why the Dark Lord has sent him back to Spinner's End, to Snape's house, is Snape reporting on _him_?

Back to Snape's house … to be bullied and threatened and mocked and treated like a house elf … and Snape's a _half-blood_, Muggle father, witch mother, just like the Dark Lord himself – not that he is ever going to be stupid enough to let _that_ drop. Well, that explains the ghastly Muggle dump Snape lives in, and who would have thought it, the way that he strutted around with all those Slytherin purebloods, Lucius Malfoy and the Black sisters and the rest … it was news to Bellatrix, the way she looked at Snape, and very unwelcome news, too. Oh, it's pretty clear that she's not the favourite any more, Snape is, the daughter of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, _toujours pur_, has been supplanted by a lowly half-blood.

He wonders how long it will be before Bellatrix Lestrange and Severus Snape are at it, oh that would be a duel to see, that vicious pair at each other's throats. But it's not the Dark Lord's way to waste a useful servant, he must have some scheme, some reason for goading them … and it must be Azkaban. Now that Dumbledore is dead, it will be Azkaban, breaking Lucius Malfoy and the others out of Azkaban. He almost moans with fear, he won't be able to wriggle out of that, and Azkaban will be a dangerous mission, they'll be taking on _Aurors_, it won't be Muggle-baiting, and if Scrimgeour has any brains at all he'll anticipate the move and strengthen the Azkaban guard, oh yes, not everyone will be coming back alive and in one piece from Azkaban. Bellatrix will fight like a madwoman, trying to win back the Dark Lord's favour, and Snape, well, Snape knows the score, sure, the Dark Lord is pleased with him _now_, he killed Dumbledore, but the Dark Lord is a "but what have you done for me _lately_" kind of guy … He thinks bitterly of the graveyard, he gave his right hand for the Dark Lord, and the Dark Lord wouldn't kill him … _probably_ … but he might not stop Bellatrix or Snape from killing him …

Oh yes, he's out of the frying pan and into the fire, that's for sure, he's got away from Bellatrix Lestrange, the crazy bitch, she's like a volcano, always about to erupt, and he knows why she hates him – she envies him, she _wanted_ to be the one to give the flesh of a servant, willingly given! But Snape, he doesn't know why Snape hates him so much …

He listens to Snape telling young Malfoy about the no magic rule, and you'd better believe it, kid. He remembers the time when he made the mistake of sneaking downstairs from his room, very late, his first night at Spinner's End, before he knew what Snape was like, before he knew that Snape was _crazy_. All he did was use a Heating Charm to heat up some cocoa, for god's sake, and Snape went nuts.

Snape must have sensed the charm, because he'd come stalking into the kitchen, thin-lipped and furious, dressed in a long grey nightshirt, had grabbed his wrist and twisted his wand out of his hand, and he'd thought, snidely, "Why so shitty Snape, it's just a piss-weak Heating Charm, did I interrupt you _wanking_ yourself?" Snape had just looked poisonously at him, and then he'd said, "Stuff you, Snape, I know James and Sirius pranked you a lot when we were all at school, but I never did anything, I only watched, and you owe me, anyhow, I'm the one who got James killed and Sirius put in Azkaban for twelve years." And then Snape had gone completely psycho, wrapped his hands around his throat, thumbs pressing into his windpipe, and hissed, "Just give me a reason, Wormtail, and I swear I'll do it, I'll do it Muggle-style, I don't need a wand to kill _you_," and he'd looked into those fathomless black eyes and he'd thought, Snape's insane, he's completely fucking _insane_.

So it's weird, it's really weird that Snape is being … nice … to him, letting him stay in the sitting room, letting him listen to his conversation with the Malfoy kid, has even given him a glass of firewhisky … but Snape never does anything without a reason, for a madman he's pretty sane. Now Snape's questioning the kid on his knowledge of the Unforgiveables, telling him some sick story about Muggle-baiting contests with Lucius Malfoy in the first war, and he thinks, I'm not like that, I'm not really a bad person, I'm not really a Death Eater, I've never killed anyone for fun, hell, I'm only trying to stay _alive_.

Snape says he's going to start training the kid up, get him some Muggles to practice on, he's telling the kid he's no use if he can't kill a Muggle, he's laying it on the line, warning him not to disappoint the Dark Lord, using that soft, nasty voice that's worse than when he shouts. He thinks, _welcome to my world_, kid, it's kill or be killed … and if you don't shape up, Snape'll probably do it himself, never mind he's been friends with your dad for years, never mind he was your teacher for six years. Oh, Snape is the Dark Lord's creature through and through, he's one of the Dark Lord's killers, alright.

Snape is talking about Aurors now, yep, it's going to be Azkaban, and soon, very soon. And after Azkaban, it will be something else, it will be all out war now that Dumbledore is dead, maybe an attack on the Ministry itself, or Gringotts, you need money to run a war. He thinks, oh I wouldn't be in Snape's boots, favourite or no favourite, he'll be the Aurors' number one target now, and the Dark Lord won't risk _his_ skin, won't risk his precious new body, not until the Auror Corps has been broken, I know what _he's_ like, he's a _user_, he'll send Snape up against the Aurors again and again until the war is over – or Snape is dead - and serve him _right_, the crazy bastard.

His stomach clenches at the thought of the coming battle, he thinks about assuming his Animagus form and running away, but he's lived as a wild rat, and it's a hard life, and he can't live with wizards, his description has been circulated by the Ministry, there isn't a wizarding household in Britain that won't be looking out for a rat with a silver paw … and he dare not try to live with Muggles, even if they didn't notice something funny about his right paw, they cage rats, use them for experiments, they might even _fix_ rats, he doesn't know much about Muggles but he knows they fix their dogs and cats. He thinks, I may never get another shag in my life, but I'd like to hang on to my nuts a little bit longer, thank you very much …

And then he thinks, what is Snape keeping in his bedroom that could be _worse_ than the books in this room, I can't get into his bedroom even in my Animagus form. It must be porn, he thinks, and pretty hot stuff, too, maybe some of those _Bloodlust_ calendars, it would be amazing if Snape didn't look at dirty pictures, from what he can see the guy almost never gets visitors, and he rarely goes out unless the Dark Lord summons him, he lives like a monk, and he wasn't like that at school, shit no, he had a reputation as bad as Sirius Black's after Bertha Jorkins caught him screwing Florence ... Florence … what's-her-name … behind the greenhouses.

The kid is looking pretty sick, too much to drink, and Snape is taking the boy up the bathroom, but the satisfaction he feels at the thought of Lucius Malfoy's stuck up brat spewing all over the place is tempered by the thought that he's the one who's going to have to clean up the mess, and Muggle-fashion, no magic. Snape stands in the doorway, looking back at him, tells him that he's the one sleeping on the couch, and he thinks, whatever … there's still an inch of whisky in the bottle, I'll finish that off.


End file.
